A Very Monday Morning
by Story Please
Summary: It's the first Potions class of the year and new Potions professor, Severus Snape, is ready for anything. But when a student dares to call him by a hated nickname, he knows that he'll have to gain control of his class quickly or he will never live it down.


**A Very Monday Morning**

"Oi! It's true! Look at 'im up there! Gonna teach us something today, Professor Snivellus?" The boy who'd spoken pointed at the dark-robed professor in a taunting manner.

"Very mature. Did you think that up all on your own or did you have to pay someone to come up with an insult for you?" Severus said, looking at the fifth year boy who had spoken out of turn.

He groaned inwardly. Not only was Harold "Dickie" Higgins a Gryffindor, but he was one of the Beaters on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Unfortunately, that meant that his muscles were quite a lot larger than his brain, which was in turn mostly dedicated to smashing Bludgers into unsuspecting opponents' heads. "You will refer to me as Sir or Professor. If you do not, you will suffer the consequences."

"Haha, Snivelly, you can't do anything to me. I'm not going to do anything you say." The boy crossed his arms and sat back with a smirk, receiving a number of supportive laughter from his friends.

"Oh, really?" Severus said, stepping closer until he loomed over the seated student. The other boys stopped laughing at the ghoulish look on the Potions master's face, as many knew that he'd gotten mixed up with the Death Eaters due to having been in Slytherin house, though to what extent, no one truly knew.

"Yeah!" Dickie said with a sneer. "Do your worst _Sniveler_!"

Severus sighed. Truth be told, the insulting nickname didn't bother him all that much anymore, but he could see that that if the boy's disrespectful behavior continued unchecked, it would infect the class and he'd never be able to teach his classes in peace.

'Fine,' he thought, 'if the Meatheaded Wonder here wants to play with fire, let him get burned.'

"Mr Higgins, are you aware of the school's gradepoint minimum policy?" Severus said, his voice deceptively calm.

"Gr-what?" Apparently he hadn't. This was too easy, but Severus stilled the glee in his stomach and forced himself to look stern.

"Grade. Point. Minimum," Severus said slowly, as though explaining something to a mountain troll, which would actually probably be far easier than the task he was about to undertake. "You see, if you do not perform in all of your classes to a certain...minimum...no Quidditch."

This got the dunderhead's attention. "N...no...Qu-qu-qui-?"

"Ah, the boy gets it! No. Quidditch." Snape allowed himself to sneer ghoulishly at the pleasure he took in tormenting this big, self-entitled bully, someone who probably got away with far more than he deserved simply because his father worked in the Wizengamot and he had the money to buy the newest, prettiest toys, and by extension, get all the friends and attention. It reminded him of a few other bullies with the penchant to make his life hell.

Well, he would find out very quickly that Severus Snape didn't give a rat's puckered anus about how much was in a student's family Gringotts vault. He left the stuttering boy at his desk, stalking to the front of the classroom and turned, slamming his open hand on the long desk near the chalkboard. At least half of the class jumped, much to his satisfaction.

"I have reviewed your previous year's curriculum and come to the conclusion that Professor Slughorn was more interested in rubbing shoulders than teaching the material," Severus started, his voice deep and rumbling with as much menace as he could manage. "Which is why, as a highly qualified Potions master, I shall be doing my best to correct your...woefully inadequate education."

Severus shook his head, noting the distressed looks on even the Slytherin students' faces. He wasn't going to go easy on them, either. He didn't want to get the reputation for being a pushover Head of House. That was how the Death Eaters had infiltrated Slytherin to begin with, and Severus knew that bigoted beliefs didn't go away with the defeat of Voldemort. The hatred and class warfare that the Dark Lord had used to rise into power had already been present long before he'd been a twinkle in his mother's eye.

Well, Severus imagined that even someone like Voldemort had been raised by parents of some sort. Though, it was hard to imagine that the wicked man had grown up well-adjusted in any sense of the word.

But none of that mattered...for now. For now there were just little shitheaded students trying to get a rise out of him, which, next to the pain of the Dark Lord's wrath, was laughable. He pointed his wand at the chalkboard and silently willed the writing he'd prepared to appear there.

"Assignments will be due at the start of class at the teacher's desk," he said, all business. "You may write up to five inches extra than what is assigned, but no more. Any less, and you will lose five points per inch from your final grade. Exams, not counting your OWLS, will be worth twenty-five percent of your grade. So will practical labs. The quality of your potions will be determined by how similar they are to my control specimens, which I have brewed myself. As I am a Master, you can be sure that only the most impeccably brewed specimens will receive full marks."

A groan echoed through the room and Severus fixed them with all with his best murderous glare. "You will want to take notes," he said, his voice like steel. A frenzy of parchment began to rustle through the gloomy classroom. "I shall only be leaving my syllabus up for the duration of this class, and then you will have to consult your classmates' notes. I suggest that you are...thorough if you wish to pass my class."

A hand was raised.

"Yes, Miss Pratchett?"

A Slytherin student stood, her long blonde braids nearly reaching her waist. "Are we allowed to form study groups or pay private tutors if we find ourselves struggling with our studies?"

Snape nodded and made sure to glare pointedly at Dickie. "You may form study groups, but I will know if you have _copied_ off of your classmates' scrolls. I have a spell to detect plagiarism and I use it before grading my assignments. I also have an approved list of tutors, which I have personally vetted out and who will not charge more than a fair sum for their services, but I suggest that you allow yourself to try for at least a month on your own before requesting a name."

Dickie was sitting at his desk, his fingers curled around his quill pen as though he were about to descend the first drop of a roller coaster. Severus, who had been considering issuing detention for the boy decided that the terror of losing his spot on the Quidditch team would do more to cow the boy into submission than having him scrub toilets with Filch for a week.

"As always, I expect impeccable behavior in class. You will treat one another with respect, even those from other Houses, and you will treat me with the respect that my station deserves. I will deduct House points, including those from my own House, if you find yourselves incapable of following the standards and practices that I expect of you. I know that many of you will hate me, but I honestly don't care one whit. It is my job to teach you Potions, no matter how hard you struggle to remain blissfully ignorant, so that is what I shall do. I only ask you to do your part to get us through the year with our limbs intact. Class dismissed."

Severus waited until all of the students had hurried out of his classroom. He had to admit, it seemed as though he may have set a Hogwarts record for emptying a class, and it was only Monday morning.

"Not bad," he chuckled to himself, as he erased the blackboard with a flick of his wand. "Not bad at all."


End file.
